Transfer Red Raven
by RibbonTears
Summary: OC. When Austen's dad is killed while on a mission for MI6, Austen herself is pulled into the world of crime, conspiracy, and lies. The organization of Red Raven killed her father, and now it's out for her. Not sure on pairing, R&R please.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider. Although, there's really not much about him in here. Just brief mentions here and there…for now. For now, it's all about Austen.

**Transfer**

**Red Raven**

Chapter One.

Austen sat by the window in her apartment, staring down into New York's streets.

As she sat there, thinking how all the people and cars looked so very much like ants, and that their lives were so insignificant, she was oblivious to the fact that thousands of miles away, on an island called the United Kingdom, her presence would change many others' lives, as well as her own.

And that there was a conspiracy taking place, and it would be up to someone, not necessarily her, to change that, for so many people were to be hurt, or, mercifully, killed.

*********

"WHAT?!" I shouted in mock disbelief. I shouted because it was expected. It would have been normal to be indignant after hearing that being said.

"You heard me, we're moving." my mother said wearily, her mousy brown hair hanging limp around her haggard face.

"But…but _why?_" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Because your father has been transferred." You could almost see the thought bubble over her head saying, _Again._

I stomped out of the room and down the hall to my bedroom. I slam the door for theatrical effect, because that's what my mom expected, for me to be upset, and I sat down on my bed, contemplating. Looking across the room at the mirror that showed a girl of 14, short black hair, gray eyes, no fashion sense.

We were moving again.

It was a relief, actually. I didn't have any friends at my current school anyway, and I was sick of the "Big Apple." It was too noisy and crowded, and too…_evil_ for my taste. Not everyone here is bad, but there were some people who are just evil, and they don't, in my opinion, deserve to breathe even the most polluted air.

I started taking my stuff off of the walls and began packing. Although mom had said that we weren't moving until the end of the month. It was August 8th. We were moving on the 28th. So I suppose it was alright to pack this early, although I know I could do it in much less time that I was given. I don't have all that many belongings.

I took an envelope off the shelf by my desk and read the front. "_Too Austen, my bestest frend evar._" It was in a messy handwriting and it was misspelled. I figured it had been from my friend Abby, from Arkansas. I had lived there when I was 5, and had made a couple of playmates. I hadn't spoken to Abby since I was 6. We used to be pen-pals, but that quickly ceased. It was too much effort, especially for 5 slash 6 year old girls.

I set the envelope back on the shelf and began to rummage in my almost-empty closet for boxes.

I had moved at least thirteen times that year. I don't understand why we don't just live in hotels so we don't have to pay rent for an apartment that we'll only live in for two months at most.

I pulled out the boxes and began to put the clothes from my dresser in them. I could do with the clothes that were in the wash at the moment…and what I was wearing. I doubt anyone at school will notice that I'm wearing the same thing for however many days straight, but I thought they might start to smell, or else I'd just wear what I was wearing at the moment all month. Plus, _I_ would probably start to smell.

As I was shuffling through clothes, not so much folding as rolling the clothes into messy balls, I doubt I'd take all that much out before we moved again.

Then, realizing I hadn't even asked mom where we were moving to, I walked down the hall to the kitchen to find my mom sitting at the table, her mousy brown hair framing her haggard face, smoking yet another disgusting cigarette, she was looking fed up with the world.

"Mom?" I asked, seeing if she was in another funk where she couldn't comprehend her surroundings. She grunted, showing she was listening.

"Where exactly," I asked, "are we moving _to_?"

She cleared her throat with a 'aggghhmm…' and then said, "The U.K." in a raspy voice that told me she had been crying.

The U.K.?

"Where??" I asked, not sure I heard right.

"The U.K." she said, "You know, United Kingdom, England, et cetera." She was getting annoyed. Again.

I got angry. Fast. I mentally screamed,**_ England?!_** _We were moving to ENGLAND? I'd have an even harder time fitting in there than New York!! Damn Dad! Damn Dad's 'Job' that apparently took us all over the bloody world. Oh dammit! I was even starting to talk like a Brit._

Augh. I needed to sit down, so I collapsed on the chair that was about to fall apart. Which it just so happens chose that exact time to do so.

…..Damn.

**************************

Airplanes suck. No, seriously. All you've heard about them being one of the best inventions ever, I can rebuke absolutely, and I'm sure I'd have an army to reinforce my opinion.

I'd have rather taken a week long boat ride. I got sat far away from my parents-my father with his black hair and his nerdy glasses, and tweed coat, along with my mother and her very thin frame, I didn't want to be seen sitting by them-which is great, but instead I got sat next to this creepy fat dude that kept leering at me. I tell you, they shouldn't have allowed him on the plane, he was so obviously a pervert.

When we finally landed after I'd gone to the bathroom to throw-up because I was so grossed out- I don't suppose those peanuts helped either though- we gathered our luggage and went to a car dealership. We bought, not rented, a car because apparently my father planned on us being here longer than usual. Yeah. Right.

We headed for the rent-a-house and parked in front of a suburban home that apparently had about five million twins/triplets/quadruplets.

It had a manicured lawn, happy garden, and millions of smiling neighbors standing around it…at least I'm sure there would be if we hadn't gotten there at two in the morning.

We went inside and the first thing that hit me was 'Alien.' That's what screamed at me as we unloaded the suitcases and boxes in the entry-way. The _perfect_ home. The lovely kitchen, the cozy living room, the sophisticated _bathroom_. Every room had its own aura.

And everything was strange. I'd never seen such a gleaming stove, or the tidiest living room, with a rocking chair in the corner with a small table next to it with a basket on it containing a remote for what looked like every appliance in the house. The huge TV that sat over the prepped fire place that was ready to have a match struck to the flint to make it burst into flame and crackle cheerfully. The cushy couch that I was sure I would sink into and never be able to get out if I cared to try.

The bathroom was luxurious. It had a Jacuzzi, and a shower that's showerhead was in the ceiling and would spray you with steaming water like rain. And there was a steam shower. AND the sink just came out of the wall, gleaming black with wrought iron handles in the shape of roses. Everything looked as if it had been dipped in onyx and then polished until it gleamed like a diamond.

I nervously opened the door that Mom had pointed to and said it was my room. I nearly collapsed when I opened the door.

Its walls were painted a tasteful color of blue-green, it wasn't ghastly. The bed's frame was made of what looked like teak, and was polished to a sparkle, (if wood can sparkle) and the covers were off-white with huge, blooming lilies that, if in any other room than this one, would be hideous. But in _this_ room, it looked graceful and elegant. The dresser was made out of the same wood as the bed frame, and just as glossy. The room also contained a small desk, a computer, and a vanity with a mirror and all.

I dropped my bags and boxes on the floor just to the left of the entryway and stared at everything, thinking, _Could I really touch anything in here without ruining it?! _

Mom entered the room with an extremely rare smile on her face.

"Do you like it?" she asked, not quite hiding the worry in her voice. _She wanted me to like it_. I couldn't imagine why.

I just cried. Which is odd, because I haven't cried since I was 8.

"I love it." I choked out between sobs. Mom looked panicked. She wasn't used to my crying either. She just patted me on the back and told me I needed to get to bed. I had to go to school tomorrow.

School. I had forgotten about that. Life Sucks…but my room was majestic, and I was able to not totally freak out and worry about it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a bad student. In fact, I was an honor student at almost every school I went to. That is, if I stayed long enough to even make it to honor student. I was smart. Realllllly smart.

I don't mean to brag. Seriously. But my dad, at least, when I had time to spend time with him as a kid, was completely and utterly obsessed with me being at the top. He got me Rosetta Stone for Japanese, Chinese, German, Russian, French, and so on. I was put into Karate classes, so I could defend myself pretty well. I made it to Dan, which is black belt. First degree. I liked karate. It helped me vent my anger towards my parents. Not that I had as much back then as I do now. I loved my dad. My mom though, we didn't get along the best. But as I was saying, my dad was obsessed with me. Completely.

I told my mom I would get ready for bed and went to the bathroom that was, apparently, mine. I had my own bathroom. It didn't have a steam shower, but it _did _have a Jacuzzi.

I settled into it and blasted the jets. I almost shot out of the thing. But I gripped onto the sides of the tub for dear life and eventually I found a position that was comfortable and the jets started to feel nice. I almost fell asleep. Around 3 o'clock, I got out and dried off, feeling a bit light-headed.

I pulled on my pajamas from the box and settled, nervously, into the large, plush bed that I was afraid to touch in fear of ruining it. I'm _sorry, _I have a bit of a problem with things that are nice. I don't feel like I can not_ not _ruin them.

I reached over to the nightstand and set the alarm for school…a first for me.

I drifted.

******

A/N: WELL! That certainly took a while. I hope you liked it. I may end up editing it or whatever, but I'm not sure quite yet. I'd love any constructive criticism you might have! R&R please, please, pretty please.

~ Celina~


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider, blah blah blah.

Chapter Two

The next, well, not really, morning, I got up on time and then actually washed my hair in the shower that was also in my bathroom. I got dressed in my uniform (a royal blue jacket with matching plaid skirt, white button up shirt and tie), pushed back my hair as best I could, what with it being so short, and went down to eat breakfast. Dad had already gone to 'Work', and Mom was already up, drinking black coffee and reading the news paper. How urban. She was already adapting. I said good morning and ate a breakfast of toast and coffee.

I asked mom where school was and she gave me a strange look and asked how she should know. I told her because she _put me_ into the damn school. She consented to that, told me to watch my mouth, and gave me a map.

As I rode the new bike I had been given, with one hand on the handlebars, pouring over the map, searching the sides of the road looking for any signs of the school, just generally going along with the flow of kids also on bikes or walking, I tried to memorize the route so I wouldn't have to do it again, looking like an idiot.

When I finally reached the high school (the map turned out not to be of much use) I went straight to the office. If I've learned anything in all my years of moving around and changing schools, it's that if you want help, go to the main office.

When I eventually found it, I told the happy-go-lucky, too helpful, plump-with-purple t-shirt secretary that I was the transfer student and that I'd like to have a schedule and map, if you'd be so kind, pretty please.

She smiled and said, "Oh, Austen honey, if you need anything, you just ask "Me, Mary-Joe," okay?"

I could have gagged, but instead I choked it back, smiled, thanked her and headed for homeroom.

Apparently, homeroom here meant Goof-Off Half Hour. I sat down in the seat closest to the door for two reasons,

1) It meant a quick escape at the end of the period, and

2) It was the only empty seat.

When the teacher came in the noise went down only a little bit. A few of the students apparently wanted to keep somewhat composed in front of the teacher. But they were mostly girls, and the teacher was cute.

He had a booming voice and made all the kids shut up to sit down with a sharp, "SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP." It wasn't immediate, but most kids listened.

They were still talking, but in a bit more civilized volume. The teacher took role call. When he came to the end and still hadn't said my name I cleared my throat a little.

I prayed I was in the right homeroom.

After I cleared my throat so loud lots of people stopped talking, the teacher finally looked at me.

He seemed a bit surprised at seeing me there. And then a look of comprehension dawned on his face and I could tell he was mentally slapping his forehead, telling himself, "OH, DAMN! How could I forget?!"

Except with an accent of course. Hey, I'm American. Give me a break.

He regained a bit of composure and said to the class, "Okay guys, for real, be quiet. We have the pleasure of a new student this year, (quiet, Willkins)."

To me he said, "Why don't you come up and introduce yourself?"

_How bout not? _I thought mentally. I hated it when they did this to me. Made me come up to the front.

I stumbled out of my chair and stood in front of the class, and as soon as I said 'Hi,' there was absolute silence.

Either because of my lazy-lousy American accent, or because they were amazed a person as hideous-okay, I'm exaggerating that. I'm not that ugly-as I am could exist. But as I continued to tell them, "Um…Hi, my name's Austen Noirbusa. I moved here from New York. Nice to meet you."

_Not_. I didn't say. I'm not the friendliest of the bunch, if you haven't noticed.

There was silence a moment longer and then one of them said, a boy with spiky blonde hair and a thin face from the back row, "That's it? _Boooorrring._" in a sound of mock-disbelief.

I raised my eyebrows, and with a sudden surge of strange courage I said,

"Why, yes, that's all. Oh, wait, unless you would like to know that I've moved from Alaska to Arizona, to Iowa, to Idaho, to South Carolina, to Maryland, to Connecticut, to Texas, to Alabama, to every other bloody state in the Continental U.S., to Mexico, and to almost everywhere else.

I never imagined that I'd move to the U.K.. Now, _Is that enough information for you_?" I continued on for quite some time, spewing mindless obscenities towards the boy until I caught myself and flushed a cherry red, not believing that I could do so much damage in so little time. And in front of the whole class and teacher. I could at least have waited until later to yell at him...crap.

Like I said, my speech went on for quite a while, and in the end everyone was stunned into silence. Apparently, in England, people were expected to simply blow off any rudeness, and have decorum. I guess. Finally, a preppy-looking girl said, "What did she just say? I totally could not understand a word of that." Except it sounded like, "What dih she jus' saiy? I to'ally coul not understand a wourd of tha'." ……at least to my untrained, _American_ ears that's what it sounded like.

The blonde boy on the other hand had a blank expression on his face and sat back down in his seat, for he had stood up during my speech.

Mr. Carson, I had seen his name on one of the papers that littered his desk, stood with a strange look on his face. "Thank you, you may go back to your desk." He said. I was surprised I didn't get detention for yelling like that.

The bell rang and I was the first one out of the room. I knew I was going to pay for my speech later. Why did I open my not usually so very big mouth?

_Because you're an idiot,_ I told myself.

I was walking down the hall to Geometry when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around with a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. I was surprised to see a very tall girl with the biggest eyes I'd ever seen. One thing was wrong though. They were RED.

"Congratulations."

It took me about half a second to realize this girl was albino. She had the eyes, of course. And her hair was so light it looked as if it were made out of white silver. Her skin was so pale it looked like marble.

Besides this adjective commentary on her appearance, her face's features weren't all that remarkable. She didn't have a speck of acne to be sure, but her nose was long, her lips were small and thin, and she had a long, gray scar.

I couldn't imagine what it was from. It went from her hair line all the way down half her neck, and it was to the right of her face, not down the middle.

I took all this in in about, as I said, half a second. My eyes lingered unwillingly on her scar. It didn't make her face look bad or deformed as it might on some people. It gave her face some interest and mystery.

Apparently, she was used to people staring. Finally, she repeated, "Hi. I just wanted to give you my congratulations." I was stunned. Her voice was so…HIGH it made my ears strain. It wasn't like nails on chalk board, it was like a trill of a bird. But unbelievably alien.

"Hi," I said, a tad cautiously as though testing my own voice for trill. I found it dead and gloomy. "Um, for what exactly?" I asked, confused about what she meant by congratulations. She chuckled a little bit. Not giggled, but _chuckled. _It was a hearty sound.

"I just wanted to congratulate you on standing up to Tom. He's got such a big head and is so rude. It was nice to see him go white as a sheet. Although I'm not sure it was in your best interest to yell at him like that on your first day." She smiled sympathetically as though she knew something I didn't, which I'm sure she did.

"Thanks," I said quietly, a bit frazzled by having someone talk to me. It was almost like having a friend.

"Oh, where are my manners?" she said, holding out her hand, "I'm Lillith. Lillith Thorn."

Strange, apparently even kids shook hands in England. Or maybe it was just her. I took her hand and shook it, feeling strange doing so.

"Austen." I mumbled just audibly. "You should know, though," I said urgently, "that I don't usually talk all that much…or that loud." referring to my speech.

She smiled a quirky smile and laughed a little.

"Austen," she said, "I think we're going to get along just fine."

I smiled. It hurt my face. How long had it been since I last smiled? I don't remember.

Wow.

**************************

After school that day I walked my bike home. I was too tired to stand without support, much less ride a bike.

There were a few guys from my school that also lived in the neighborhood, but we mostly ignored each other as we walked down the sidewalk.

I could feel their eyes on me as we walked towards our designated houses.

**133**. That was mine. I walked up the….well, walk, and towards the house that, except for the gold-painted iron number above the door, seemed to be looking in thousands of mirrors. It freaked me out how alike all those houses are.

I opened the door and entered, marveling again at how amazing the house was. My temporary home. I plop my book bag next to the door and walk to the kitchen. Dad's still at Work. Mom must be grocery shopping or something.

I rummage through the fridge, looking for something to eat. It's actually already full of food, so I wonder vaguely, in the back of my mind, where Mom could possibly be. Maybe it was true! Maybe we _were_ staying here longer and Mom was out looking for a job!

I caught myself and tried not to think about it. I didn't want to get my hopes up. I was looking around the house yet again, when I found a note in my parents' bedroom. It was sitting on my mother's night stand and had been written hastily. I shouldn't be nosy. I know. But it was signed by my dad. To my mom. I can't just ignore that! I opened it up and read it.

_Dear Kate,_

_I had to leave on another assignment. It's an emergency and I'm sorry that I wasn't there this morning to wake you up with a steaming cup of coffee. _

_I feel so bad. SO, SO bad that you've been stressed recently. I apologize that I've dragged you around all these years and I hope I can make it up to you some day. Though I'm not sure if I'll be coming back this time. I really don't. I'm working with the Red Raven. Please, please don't be alarmed and do **not** do something rash._

_Hopefully I'll be home within the month, and we can stay here for a while longer. But, as always, if something were to happen to me, you know what to do with Austy. I'm so sorry, as I always am, that I must ask this of you. But please, please, please don't leave. I can't guarantee that you'll be safe. As long as you're here, _MI6 _will look after you two. _

_Lots of love,_

_Mark_

I was in shock. My father. On a _mission_? The very idea was ludicrous!! I had heard of MI6 before. It was sort of like America's CIA, only English-style. But why on Earth would they need to "look after us?" And what exactly was _Red Raven_? I couldn't make sense of any of it.

At that moment I heard the door downstairs slam and heard my mother call "Austen?" I composed myself and went downstairs, letter in hand, fully intending to confront my mother about it. Then I saw her face. And all thought drained away. I knew something had happened. And judging from the letter I had just read, I'm assuming it was Dad. Something happened to Dad.

*****

A/N: Well, I really do apologize to anyone with an accent reading this. I don't mean to be rude, but Austen does. And I apologize for her rudeness. I sincerely do. No offense to anyone. . . I've got quite a bit of work to do on chap. 3. GUESS WHERE THIS IS HEADED! XD

~Celina~


End file.
